In the Eye of the Recorder
by May Seward
Summary: Bridget Spears seeks revenge and a certain Torchwood operative is going to help her do it. Mini-fic. Sort of CoE Day Four fix-it. Set during CoE Day Five. OneShot. Prequel to my multi-chapter fic The Time of the Wolf.


Bridget Spears had never considered herself a lonely woman. No, she had never married. The man she had been holding out for was never a possibility. He had a wife and two beautiful girls. And now he was dead.

Bridget Spears had never felt so alone. As she'd walked out of Lois Habiba's cell, she had reached a hand into her bag and clutched the shape of the contact lens case to reassure herself. A few hours later, she had been informed of John Frobisher's death. The news had settled itself on her shoulders, the finality of it a dead weight. She had made her way into the Downing Street bathroom and locked herself in.

She took out the contact lenses. Torchwood contact lenses. Lois had told her how they worked when she had visited. She put them on now and stared at her own reflection. Lip-reading software, Lois had said. Bridget Spears hoped the girl was telling the truth.

'Is anybody listening?' she asked the empty bathroom. 'Does anyone still care?'

 _ **We are listening, Bridget.**_

The words appeared out of nowhere, writing themselves in front of her eyes in modern blue font.

 _ **What is your plan?**_

Bridget Spears walked into the conference room in Downing Street with a renewed sense of purpose. Denise Riley had been one of the last to leave after the meeting had been adjourned. Good. Bridget thought. It is only fitting there should be an audience for this. She hung back, out of the way. An invisible observer to what was about to unfold, as she had always been.

Denise turned to the Prime Minister and Bridget Spears waited.

'The public will be wanting a statement, sir,' she said. Bridget stifled a small smile. Mr Green inhaled deeply. His face set itself into a serene picture of satisfaction.

'I suppose you could say we were lucky,' he said finally. It wasn't the answer Denise was expecting.

'A bit soon to tell. We don't know exactly what happened yet.'

'Lucky with the Americans, I mean,' Green explained. 'General Pierce took charge without ratification from the United Nations.' He looked positively pleased about it. It made Bridget sick. 'We can say that today's events were in American hands.'

'And do you think that's lucky?' she asked, cool, calm and collected. A benign exterior hiding the hatred she felt for the man sitting smugly in front of her. The man who had driven John Frobisher to...

The Prime Minister laughed. 'Yes, I do, rather.'

Bridget Spears curled her lip at him. 'Your first thought now is to save your own skin. In which case, you might like to know, I paid a visit this morning, sir,' she stated. 'I went to see Lois Habiba. You might remember her. I sat with her a while. We had a number of things to discuss. And while I was there, I used the emergency protocols to sign out a particular piece of evidence.' She almost smiles at the Prime Minister's look of incomprehension. 'Contact lenses, sir,' she continued. 'The Torchwood contact lenses.' That got his attention. 'And Lois was very helpful. She told me how they worked.' She wanted to cherish the look on his face at her next statement for the rest of her time on earth. 'I can hardly feel them, sir.'

Now, she smiled. Small, understated, quietly confident. Bridget Spears had nothing to lose. 'But everything that happened in this room has been recorded, sir. All waiting to be made public by me. Including your statement just now that after the events of today you feel, as you said in your very own words, sir, "lucky".'

The Prime Minister glared at her. 'You wouldn't dare. I can have you arrested.'

To Bridget's pleasant surprise, Denise Riley came to her defence. 'I don't think so,' she said. 'Thank you, Bridget, you're free to go. And Miss Habiba will be released, I'll see to it myself. I think I'll be taking charge of very many things in the days to come. Is that all, sir?'

The reality of his situation seemed to crash on Mr Green. He lowered his gaze, wide-eyed with shock. _He wouldn't be getting anyone else arrested now_ , she thought smugly.

 _ **Excellent work, Bridget.**_ _**Torchwood will take it from here.**_

Miles away, in an abandoned warehouse with HUB2 scrawled on one wall, Ianto Jones sat back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head with a satisfied smile.

That morning he'd been dead, but now everything could be put right.


End file.
